7th night in the ER series

[guest042302019, BSN, RN]

3/18/2010(7th night)

Tonight, my uncle Bob gave me a ride to the hospital. I even said, " This'll make a good start for my diary." He smirked, and as we arrived at the car port, I said my good byes and made sure he was going to pick me up at 10:45pm. Sometimes, he needs to be reminded a few times because his idea of time isn't the same at mine, for he can be extremely casual about being there when he says he going to be. Needless to say, he was on time later that night. I get out, and walk into the automatic, mouth-like doors of the hospital, as if they were swallowing me. Passing through the throat of the hospital, walking in the elevator like a specialized cell of the body is facilitating my descent deeper and deeper, until I reach the foundation, and the heart of the hospital. I stroll down the corridor of the hall leading to the back entrance of the ER, and as usual pass the Heart and Xray centers. I walk by a dirty bed, and wonder,"Why hasn't anyone taken a mere 2 minutes to clean this bed?" Apparently, all hell has broken loose, and this bed needed to await a cleansing. Come to find out, this was not the case, atleast anywhere outside of the ER, but who am I to judge, I'm a volunteer, and I just work here. I push the handicap button, and the large door creaked, then groaned and slowly opened towards me, and I walk in.

I greet the charge nurse, and make way to do my nightly duties. Without too many hellos and greetings to the scurrieng employees, I take notice of anything I can do for these people. I then notice a line through room 12, and like an alarm inside me, I rush to clean and sanitize this room. The room wasn't too dirty, and would take very little time to take care of. I begin to uncoat the bed of dirty sheets, then unsheath the pillow of its' case, and out of nowhere, it hit me. Patient. I think to myself, what is a patient? Where does the idea of patient come from, or rather, where does the label come from? As a dictionary states, patient means, " A person who is under medical care or treatment, a person or thing that undergoes some action, bearing provocation, annoyance, pain, etc., without complaint or anger, characterized by or expressing such a quality, persevering or diligent; steady, undergoing the action of another, able and willing to endure, susceptible of." At the time of my little premonition, or insight, or questioning of a widely accepted idea or concept, I couldn't wait to get my hands on a dictionary or even, start writing the words I'm writing right now. I understand the idea of a patient being under medical care, but what really struck me was the word itself? Are patient's really patient? Are these people really willing to be dilligent or persevere while going under the actions of another? Are they willing to endure in these times? I can't, ofcourse, answer these questions in great detail due to my lack of experience in this enviroment. But, I can from my meager experience that I do have. In the ER, these patients are patient not neccessarily because they want to, but rather, because they have to. There bodies are in dire need of help beyond there own means,so they need to undergo and accept the actions of another, or face harm or death. In my case, if I was in their shoes or in their hospital garments, I would definitely be patient as much as I could be. But as people, we are not really patient. We want everthing now, now, now. So this probably brings about an inner conflict, between the now, now, now, and the "We'll take care of you as soon as possible." Another thought about patient, is why choose the word "patient" when in reality, or atleast most of the time, the people aren't. It's like the originators of the label, labeled people "patients" as way to try to make people more patient. This is not the case. Can I blame them the patients for not being patient? Yes, and No. Yes, because the ER, and the hospital is not a fast food joint, and No, because I can see where they are coming from. They are worried, frazzled, scared, in pain, unsure, and all the emotions that would add to their hastiness to get out of the uncomfortable hospital. Likely the case is that patient is a euphemism for the real deal. Like death is referred to as passed on, or onto a better place. Or, old people are referred to as the wise, or eldery, or senior citizens. "Patient" doesn't hide the fact that these people are sick, hurting, or dying. Maybe patient is used as a universal term, like sign language, stop signs, or the skull and cross bones as sign of danger. All I'm saying is patient doesn't seem like the most appropriate term to be used to label these people, but what do I know?

Back to the matter at hand. I continue my night doing my nightly duties, and I eventually come out of a room, and a PA looks me up and down, and says," Andrew is big enough." I smile not at his comment but rather, I know that I will be able to do something besides clean. I do alittle conversing, and come to find out, a kid has grown an absess and it needs to be opened up, drained, and properly cared for. I get excited inside, finally, after nearly 2 weeks, I get to do somethind different. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the patient. The PA told me to wait for the other male nurse to assist. Apparently, this kid has white coat syndrome and needs to be "held down" during the procedure. By the way, what's with the syndrom labeling, maybe the kid is just scared in general, anybody would be in a weird environment. Finally after the nurse was done, myself and he walked into the room. But, the PA forgot the lidocaine, so I went to retrieve it. When I had done so, I walk back in the room, and place it in an bad place. Immediately I was remidiated for placing in the "field of sterility." The PA wasn't too upset but actually, quite nice about it and simply said," You should never put in the this area. This area was where his sterile gloves, gauzes, and tools were laying. I felt like slapping my head, and even now I do because I recently just finishing microbiology, which rigorously preaches aseptic techniques. I feel like such a dumb mistake is below me, but I am not perfect, and we didn't go over "field of sterility" in our lab notebook. I'm allowed alittle chuckle over my silly mistake, afterall no lives were lost over the precious field. I was directed to on the boy's right, and hold his right hand and leg just above his knee. The other nurse was towards the top of his head, and did similar to my hand position. I look at the absess and frankly, I wasn't too impressed. Not that I needed any impressing, but I had terrible acne as a kid, and the size was roughly equivalent to some of my "zit's" size. But, I did feel bad for the child because he wasn't able to sleep, so after the procedure, he would sleep soundly with a lot less pain. I plead that I can't stress this enough, but as soon as the PA moved towards the boy, he frantically whipped his whole body like a fish out of water. He thrashed, screamed, yelled, cried, in a split second. At the beginning, his hand got away from the nurse, and the PA move the needle away from the sight like he was expecting the body to do so. The nurse then got control over his extremities, and the PA inserted the 3 inch needle into the sight, numbing it slowly but surely. Even with great ease of the needling technique, the body screamed and cried, but we continued. After a few moments, the boy's screams subsided due to the lidocaine's numbing effect of the site. During all of this commotion, the nurse, the PA, the mother, who was present, and myself congratulated the boy on his bravery and calmness. Even if that wasn't the case, maybe down the road during other hospital visits, the boy would have more confidence in the foreign place of the hospital. Then the PA grabbed a scapel, and made a small cut over the top and immediately, puss oozed out of the top like an exploding volcano. I recall that I even turned my head slightly to left as if I was expected a sudden ***** eruption. The PA then began to squeeze the sight, relieving it of the infected liquids until no more came out. After that, he used a scissors blunt tip scrape away any left infected masses within the now empty cavity. Small strips of gauze were inserted into the cavity, although I don't know the meaning of this. Probably to absorb fluids and bacteria to promote proper healing of the open site. Eventhough the numbing effect had taken place and the procedure was nearly over, I realize I still had my hands on the boy's extremities. I released nearly all the pressure I initially began with but I still kept my hands there, ready for another thrashing about. The PA finished, and I apologized for my silly mistake but he waved it off realizing no one's perfect. Nice guy he is. I'll have to talk to him more. I didn't realize he was a Physician's assistant, and not a doctor until this night. I'll have to talk to him more, I could learn a great deal from him. I walk out satisified with my performance, and the way I handled the situation. Finally, I was able to be a part of an actual procedure, even though a meager and non-life threatening one, a procedure none the less. I wonder if volunteers are able to do these sort of stand ins or is my trust with these people growing, and they are giving me tid-bits of insights here and there. I treasure every one of these, for they don't know, I write about them.

Also, I saw a woman I had seen early in my ER volunteering "career." This woman was actually the daughter of the patient that I saw previously. This was the woman I had put the pillow under on my second or third night in the ER. This was a nice moment, because I had recognized her and she had recognized me. She greeted me with a big smile, and I did the same. Apparently, her mother was feeling some stomach pains, so they brought her in. I was saddened to see her mother back here, but I welcomed them and treated them with much positivitely and happiness. I noticed she was cold, so I brought her 2 blankets from the warmer. When I bring blankets in, I don't simply lay them on top and be done, but I lay them on, and tuck them in like a mother would do before singing a goodnight song. I tuck them in like a catepillar's caccoon to make sure they as comfortable as possible. I really enjoy putting a smile on their face. I also notice that a nurse gives her a drink that contains Barium which is used as a contrasting element in a CT scan. I joked with her in saying that the drink doesn't taste very good, and I was sorry for that. She appreciated this and gave me a smile. Throughout the night, I visited her and the daughter several times, until finally, she was discharged from the hospital. I escorted her out in a wheel chair, and even received a hug for my kindness. This was really, really great.

I had a very nice night. I talked to several people and medical staff. I can't think of any substantial conclusion or "enlightenment" I normally write as part of a conclusion. The hug, to me, was priceless like the mastercard commercial. I'm a simple volunteer and yet, I receiving so much praise for what I do. I guess what I'm doing is the right way to go, even though this is my nature, this feels right, this feels perfect, this feels like what I want to feel like everyday, all day for the rest of my life. I love what I'm doing right now, I am, without a doubt, making a difference in people's